That old Black magic
by Marjorie Nescio
Summary: Upon accepting the part of Narcissa Malfoy an actress finds herself in a magical world, without a script. But she has a brain and beauty and she plans to return home. But to get out, she needs to get in deeply... Author's note August 2013: it's been too long since the last update, but I will finish this story. Definitely.
1. The contract

Author's note: It has been many months since I last updated this story. Other stories got in the way (I'm working on a Big Bang Theory/Walking Dead crossover at the moment) but I haven't forgotten _That old Black magic_: I will finish it. For now there are nine chapters and over twenty thousand words for you to read.

**What is this story about?**

_That old Black magic_is about an actress. She is offered the part of Narcissa Malfoy and as a result she gets caught in a magical world. That is hard enough as it is even without suddenly being married and having a son. Enter Lucius and Draco. Severus Snape will also make his appearance (for I like him). Andromeda is on the list of characters too, just like for instance Neville Longbottom. You won't find a lot of Potter in this story, but when you ended up here after searching for Narcissa centered fics you probably won't mind.

~Prelude~

In a small room above The Leaky Cauldron an old man tried to enjoy his tea.

The scents of jasmine and muffin filled his nose.

If only he wasn't too tensed to eat...

He sighed.

This was it.

There was no other way. This one option _had_ to work.

He rested his trembling hands on his knees and waited.

~1 The contract~

The hotel's Art Deco foyer was elegant and most people enjoying lunch or tea fitted in. The man sitting opposite _me_ made an exception. He was... eccentric. Wearing a Hawaii shirt under his suit he _could_ be an IT millionaire. He _was_ a company lawyer.

I had expected the head of WB's legal department to be dressed in a dark costume. I had expected him to quickly come to the point: signing the contract that would bind me to play Narcissa Malfoy in 'the half blood Prince' for which WB would pay me handsomely.

The lawyer was very enthusiastic about _the big screen_.

He talked about acting, actors, 'ordinary people' and some films I'd played in.

´That scene with what's her name and your character, and she screams and acts like... uh...´

´A shrew?´

He burst out in laughter.

´A shrew indeed,´ he repeated after drying his eyes.

I poured him tea. The man's clamorousness started to annoy me, but I knew how to hide my feelings.

´It's so special, a film. It must be fascinating to be part of it,´ the lawyer remarked.

´It is indeed. And I am honoured to be _offered_ this part. I do wonder though why there were no auditions at all...´

´The picture!´ he replied, ´I saw the picture, showed it and you were in.´

´Were _you_ involved in the casting process?´

´I know the boss,´ he answered, ´and _he_ knows I love films, so he asked me to look around.´

He hastily attacked his sandwich, and I had no choice but to pick up my cutlery.

OoOoOoO

It wasn't until after lunch that the lawyer – with a flourish - produced a leather folder from his pink shopping bag.

´I have never seen a man in your position with anything but a brief-case,´ I smiled.

´Would that be more appropriate?´ he asked.

From a pocket of his coat he got a note-book and he asked me if he could borrow a pen. I gave him one and instructed him to hold the upper part and then turn the bottom part to use it.

´Wonderful,´ he whispered when he had written down 'brief case'.

I gave him a sweet smile. It had occurred to me that someone might be playing me a trick. A hidden camera trick. _If_ _so_, my smile would make people feel for me.

´So I shouldn't use a shopping bag. How does a brief-case look like?´

I gestured towards some chalk-lined gentlemen at a nearby table. Their decent brief-cases were placed under their chairs.

´They are all black. I will buy a pink one.´

´I doubt they are sold in that colour.´

While the lawyer mused that pink suit-cases would brighten the world, I told myself that if I _was_ in a candid camera program and the whole _we'd like to offer you a part_ was a joke, I would make sure the show's producers would get in trouble. The letter in which the offer was made had WB's logo on it and I couldn't imagine Warner to be amused by that.

´I could buy a black brief-case and hang an animal on it, like that one.´

He gestured toward the small back bag of a girl who was having tea with her grandmother.

´I doubt the Pink Panther will feel at home on a brief-case,´ I replied.

He was about to note that down, when he again became aware of the leather folder. Placing his note-book in his pocket, he sighed deeply.

´May I request your signature?´

His hands were shaking when he turned the folder around and opened it. He handed me my pen.

I _never_ sign a contract without reading it.

´The shooting starts on the day the contract is signed? That is highly unusual. As is _until the project is completed, the contracting party should be present on the set_.´

The odd conditions gave me something to act on. I put down my pen.

´I can't possibly make it to the set today.´

The man remained silent.

´And why should I stay on the set _all the time_? Or does it mean that I should be _available_ in case _my_ scene needs a re-take during the cutting process?´

He said he would take care of it. Picking up the folder he left. I suppressed the urge to raise my eyebrows.

A man appeared next to me. According to his name tag he was the general manager of the hotel. I expected him to say something like: ´Could you look at that plant please? Do you see the flower on it? There's a camera in there!´ after which everyone would start laughing.

´Is there anything I can get you ma'am?´

I asked for another pot of tea.

It arrived at the same time the lawyer returned. He looked content and presented another version of the contract.

He must have received it by fax.

´I think you'll find this version more to your liking,´ he remarked in a confident tone.

Turning the pages I had to agree with him.

So it wasn't a joke. Good. My nephew Davy would be disappointed if I wouldn't play in a Potter film, even though he'd exclaimed that my character was not important at all.

I signed the contract. The lawyer, looking grave and for the first time acting his profession, solemnly placed his signature next to mine.

It seemed hard for him to separate himself from my pen and I asked him to keep it. It was an ordinary pen given to me by my brother, who'd gotten a dozen from a business associate.

The lawyer couldn't have been more pleased had I given him a Waterman. It made me feel a little uncomfortable.

He walked to the counter to pay the bill and then wished me luck. After courteously kissing my hand he left, the leather folder imprisoned between his arm and his upper body.

OoOoOoO

Drinking my tea, my thoughts turned to the film, my anxiousness about whether or not the whole contract thing was a joke forgotten. I looked forward to see Alan again. And being able to watch Maggie Smith at work was a bonus.

I'd have a nice week, for shooting my one scene wouldn't take much longer.

The sound of breaking glass made me aware of my surroundings.

Everyone who'd been there a few minutes ago, had left and new guests occupied the tables. It was almost half past four: I had to leave.

The lawyer had left his shopping bag and I took it with me. The film company would surely be able to deliver it to him.

OoOoOoO

The old man in The Leaky Cauldron looked up when he heard someone climb the stairs. He swallowed hard and transformed from a fragile looking senior citizen into a charismatic leader.

A broadly smiling man opened the door.

´All went well?´

´Yes sir.´

The old man reached out his hand and was handed a leather folder.

´The contract has _not_ been changed?´ he wanted to know, looking over the top of his glasses.

The younger man shook his head: ´It hasn't Professor. It is _exactly_ according to the formula.´

The old man inhaled audibly.

´And so it has started. May Merlin be with us.´

...

...

Author's note: In the coming chapter our actress will bump into Jason, or so she thinks. But she soon finds herself in a rather strange _hospital_. Feel free to review!


	2. Candid camera

~2 Candid Camera~

After making sure that the lawyer would be informed by the hotel's staff that I would have his bag delivered at his office, I left the hotel.

Standing in front of the entrance I noticed a gracefully flowing cape. It was worn by a gentleman who happened to walk toward the hotel. I stepped aside to let him pass, but naturally _I_ moved to the right and _he_ moved to the left.

'I will promise to stay _right here_, so you can pass me left or right, just as you please.'

The man's face seemed familiar, but I didn't bother to find out if I knew him: my nephew Davy had asked _The last of the really great Whangdoodles_ for his birthday and there was a bookstore nearby...

'Are you all right?' the man asked.

´I am fine, thank you,´ I replied absent mindedly.

It started to rain. Telling myself that I should have brought a coat, I walked away.

´What is going on?´ Mr Cape said.

I turned around to face him.

´I've searched everywhere, how can you just stay away?´ he continued.

I wanted to tell him that he was mistaking me for someone else, when he added: ´What were you doing in a _Muggle_ hotel?´

So it was a candid camera program after all. Damn.

´Narcissa, what are you doing here?´

The man gestured me to go inside the hotel.

Jason Isaacs, of course! The cast is pulling me a joke! How sweet!

I allowed him to escort me into the lobby.

´Narcissa, you are confused. What happened after you left Tahl this afternoon?´

´Tahl?´

Jason took the pink bag from me and produced a book.

He showed me the cover.

´_Stakes and_ _Oudewater, witch-hunts in the Low Countries_, you've bought this at Tahl this afternoon.´

I laughed, which made him frown.

´I fail to see what's so funny Narcissa.´

A sudden jolt of pain behind my eyes signalled that there was a major migraine on its way. Just when I wanted to play along...

Experience however had taught me that there was no point in wanting anything once a migraine knocked on the door.

´I am sorry, but I am getting a headache and -´

Jason looked into my eyes and gently made me sit down on a small sofa. I asked a passing waiter for some water and it was swiftly brought to me.

Taking a small brown bottle from my bag, I dropped twelve drops in the glass.

´Have you been trying something new again?´ Jason softly asked.

For a moment I was lost, then I realised that he pretended the painkiller to be some magical potion.

Seriously! I hoped that the medication would soon start working.

´This is a wonderful joke, but I´m not feeling well Jason,´ I slowly whispered.

A muscle near his left eye twitched. He gently touched my fore head.

´You _don't_ have a fever.´

For the next twenty minutes I was barely aware of my surroundings. I longed to be at home, where I could slouch on a sofa, but I sat straight, only allowing myself to close my eyes.

Jason didn't make an attempt to talk, and I liked him for that.

When the drilling inside my head became less unbearable, I looked around again.

My fellow Thespian poured me a cup of tea and asked me how I was doing.

I apologised for not having played along. It earned me a impenetrable glance.

After finishing my tea, I felt that I was able to make it home.

´I'd like to leave now if you don't mind.´

Jason told me he understood and informed me that he had already paid for our beverages.

I nodded my thanks, though frankly the drilling in my head still prevented me from appreciating anything.

'I will take the subway -,´ I started.

By way of interrupting he offered me his arm.

OoOoOoO

'I _will_ bring you home,´ Jason said as we were crossing a street, ´but would you mind if I stopped by somewhere? It is near and it will not take long.´

I _did_ mind but he'd been kind to me even though I'd ruined the joke and moreover, talking and walking made me a little nauseous.

It didn't take more than a minute's walk before he announced that we had arrived.

My migraine had by now been replaced by a tolerable headache. I felt the rain on my face, I registered Jason's concerned expression and I felt surprise: I'd been living in London for so long and there were still things, a fountain, a statue and, like now, a pub, I'd never seen before.

Jason escorted me inside.

The pub's patrons looked weird, there was no other word for it. Jason mumbled something and the world became black.

OoOoOoO

´Ruorigh?´

Was I lying down?

I opened my eyes.

I _was_ lying down. And I wasn't in my own bedroom. By the feel of it I was only wearing my undergarments. I rested myself on my elbows.

´Are you all right? Madam?´

A young man with a tiny moustache gave me a worried look. When I didn't respond, he left the room to return with a small woman and Jason. The woman introduced herself as healer McLuff and informed me that I had a concussion.

´I beg your pardon?´

´You have a concussion madam and -´

´Where am I?´

´You're in St Mungo's.´

The woman addressed Jason.

´I will leave you and your wife alone for a moment Lord Malfoy.´

She gestured toward the nurse and the two of them left the room.

´Narcissa, you are obviously confused. Healer McLuff suggested that you might stay for a night, so she can monitor whether the concussion caused more than... memory loss.´

Now _normally_ I'm a master of improvising, but the previous scene had left me flabbergasted.

´Narcissa?´

Jason gave me a piercing stare.

´Did you hear me? Healer McLuff suggested that you might stay for a night...´

I gave it a thought and then realised that my headache was gone. It was play time! Or rather pay back time.

´Perhaps that _is_ a good idea,´ I smiled sweetly.

Jason looked relieved. He surely was a fine actor...

Jason kissed my cheek and promised he´d visit me in the morning.

´I will have some clothes delivered.´

I nodded graciously.

Shortly after Jason left 'McLuff' entered.

´Lady Malfoy, I'd like to ask you some questions to determine the severity of your... concussion?´

´You sound a little unsure as to whether it _is_ a concussion?´

´Well, a concussion is the only logical explanation for you not recognising people and places. Your husband told me that you didn't seem to recognise the Leaky Cauldron, even though you've been there before. But then, you are not physically injured, perhaps someone cast a charm on you...´

I stifled a yawn.

´You are tired. Would you like me to return later on?´

´No, I am fine. After a migraine attack I always feel sleepy.´

McLuff made a note of it.

´Your husband found you in a _Muggle_ hotel. Do you remember why you were there?´

´I was having lunch.´

McLuff tapped her pencil against her clipboard.

´When you left your house this afternoon, you were wearing normal clothes.´

´That is true.´

´Do you recall _where_ you changed?´

´Into what?´

McLuff firmly turned over a leaf.

´We'll try other questions. What do four times eight minus one make?´

´Thirty-one. Or twenty-eight.´

McLuff raised her eyebrows.

´Is an apple part of crockery, a brand of brooms, fruit or a mammal?´

´Fruit. Is this useful?´

´Many patients with a concussion can't remember these simple things. Others forget where they live.´

She looked at me expectantly.

I smiled at her pleasantly.

´Do you know where you live?´ she urged.

´I live in London.´

As McLuff went through her questionnaire, she looked increasingly concerned.

_I _meanwhile wondered whether I'd ever seen my interrogator on stage or in a series. I also tried to spot a camera (after all, this would make a nice extra on a DVD), but I found none.

After fifteen minutes I'd answered McLuff's Monty Python quality questions and I was left alone. I felt really tired, but I wanted to stay awake for I expected Alan to enter the room.

I must have drifted off for some time though, for when I woke up, I noticed a black dressing gown and a crystal vase with gorgeous roses which I was sure had not been there before.

I got out of bed, stared at the N, M and B in the silk gown's collar and tried it on. It was a perfect fit. And also a bit overdone. Well, _Harry Potter_ didn't exactly have a small budget.

I couldn't but admire the room. The bed was made of wood and the heavy curtains fell down to the floor. There was even a fire place, with two chairs and a coffee-table which carried the vase as well as a newspaper. Which else could it be but The Daily Prophet? Its front page showed three wizards looking at a giant egg.

It made me grin. The paper had of course been used in one of the films, but the props department _could_ have forgotten to leave it here.

Searching for my clothes, I found them in a built in closet, next to four gowns. It made me shake my head: Narcissa would only need _one_ dress for her scene. The others must be for Helena. Or they'd been worn by Emma's character.

Refreshed and dressed I left the bathroom fifteen minutes later on, more than ready to enter the rest of the set. A movement on the table caught my attention. At first I thought it was a bug, but it proved that one of the wizards on the picture was bending forward to touch the egg.

It made me sit down.


	3. Real magic

~3 Real magic~

I've always prided myself in being logical. So when a man on a photo starts moving I naturally conclude that I'm on drugs. It _had_ to be a new effect of my painkiller. Perhaps I'd miscounted the number of drops I'd taken.

I turned some pages (the sheets were perfectly ordinary) until I found another picture. It showed an old woman. Just when I thought it was a normal photo, the woman started to slobber.

If only there were elephants flying around my head, singing _these are a few of my favourite things_, all would be well. But no such thing: apart from the pictures nothing indicated that I was high.

I breathed in deeply and left my room to investigate.

I saw a man with a green nose, a child with nails that scraped the floor, someone with his ear in a catch.

Somehow it didn't seem fantastic. It merely seemed as if these _patients_ had spent quite some time at the make-up department. The catch of course was made of styrofoam.

Telling myself that the drug must already lose its working, I _was_ a little bothered for not knowing whether there was a St Mungo scene in the book. It was _not_ logical to go through the trouble of creating an entire set just to fool a new colleague...

I wished I'd read _the half-blood prince _from cover to cover.

After entering another wing, I soon recalled a famous phrase.

_When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth._

To have green fluid running from someone's ears took a skilled make-up artist.

But to transform a man from having alternately yellow, pink, and green skin, with fingers growing and shrinking... that took a magician who made a mistake.

I was just whispering: ´All right Sherlock: it's real. It's magic,´ when McLuff appeared next to me.

OoOoOoO

The healer wanted to walk me to my room, saying I looked very pale.

I _did_ feel sick but there was no point in telling her. I said that I was just fine and that I would find my way back myself.

She cast me a worried glance, which for some reason annoyed me tremendously. I gave her an aristocratic stare and she nodded her consent.

Although an ancient part of my brain screamed RUN, I walked to my room, softly closed the door behind me and sat down on the floor, facing a wall.

Yoga never fails to make me relax, though admittedly it took quite some time before I rose.

I dropped myself on the bed and fell asleep the moment my head hit the pillow.

I dreamt of roses.

OoOoOoO

When I woke up the next morning, I was covered with a soft blanket. It looked ordinary. The curtains looked ordinary. The bed looked ordinary. The ceiling looked ordinary.

It made me feel good: I'd been tired and I must have been dreaming. Before I could reason away the fact that I _was_ where I _was_, the nurse came in.

´Aha, you're awake ma'am,´ he said.

It wasn't that redundant line that changed my mood: it was the fact that he opened the curtains with a flick of his wand and that he was followed by a floating tray with breakfast on it.

They say that everything looks better in the morning? They lie.

I was soon left alone again. My stomach was as tight as a knot. To calm myself down I took a deep breath.

I'd ended up in a film.

Spending some time on the WC gave me relief and afterwards the breakfast scones made me feel a little better.

I'd ended up in a film? Well, I _was_ an actress.

I would handle one thing at the time and if these lunatics thought I was going to play their game, they'd have to think again.

I'd ended up in a film.

I barely made it for the toilet.

OoOoOoO

Wizards and witches are no different from normal humans when it comes to talking about nearby sick people.

Though McLuff and Ja- Lucius should have heard me brushing my teeth in the bathroom, they didn't wait for me to emerge and they discussed my condition as if I was not around.

McLuff had concluded that a powerful spell was cast over my clothes.

´See,´ she told Lucius (I figured they were looking into the closet),´she is wearing them again.´

´But your colleague Bin Moesfa is on it, isn't he?´

At this point there must have been non verbal communication from McLuff, for Lucius continued: ´You don't believe that he's right?´

´It's just that...´ McLuff started.

´Yes?´ Lucius icily encouraged.

´Yesterday evening she was wandering in the hospital and she said something strange. She said _It's real, it's magic_.

´Your point?´

By now I'd applied make-up (my bag had not been taken from me and the extra stockings and panties I always carry with me came in handy). Upon entering the room I planned to participate in the conversation, but seeing witch and wizard standing there dressed in robes limited my contribution to a feeble smile.

McLuff and Lucius looked at me. The healer returned my smile, but Lord Malfoy, perhaps because of a stiff upper lip upbringing, merely nodded at me.

´Your point healer McLuff?´

´I think that your wife thinks that she's a mu- muggle,´ the woman slowly said.

Lucius stepped toward me with the swiftness of a predator.

´Narcissa, do you think that you are a _muggle_?´

Now, even if I _hadn't_ known what a muggle was, I would never have thought it was something he _wanted_ me to be. The way he pronounced the word made one think that it was a combination of a jellyfish and a cockroach.

Before I could reply, McLuff intervened.

´Do you know what a muggle _is_ Lady Malfoy?´

´It is a person who isn't a witch or a wizard.´

´If she really thought she was a muggle,´ Lucius said, ´she wouldn't know that.´

´But she _is_ wearing muggle clothes,´ McLuff bravely replied.

Lucius raised his hand to hush her.

´It's a _charm_, it will not last.´

He addressed me again.

´Draco was worried about you.´

I'd completely forgotten about the boy. Realising that someone out there thought I was his mother frightened me.

I stared ahead, feeling Lucius look at me.

´With you and Bin Moesfa investigating the charm, I don't see why my wife should stay here any longer,´ he informed the healer.

The two of them argued about whether or not I could be released from hospital. Pretending that the discussion didn't concern me, I focused on the reassuringly normal roses.

I felt nauseous. I wanted all this to be a book. A film. I wanted to give an _interview_ about playing in a Potter film, instead of being caught in one. Why couldn't _McLuff_ and _Lucius_ just get a fit of the giggles until an invisible director would cry _CUT_, and then the rest of them (Alan, Dame Maggie, Helena) would enter the room, smiling and laughing and teasing me with the look on my face. I wouldn't care. I'd stand their bantering with a silly grin.

´Narcissa?´

Lucius sounded impatient.

´I just want to go home,´ I pleaded, my voice a little hoarse.

McLuff shrugged and nodded her permission.

´How do you want to go home Narcissa?´

´By car,´ I replied.

The muscle near Lucius's left eye started twitching again.

It made me act like an actress. Finally.

´I think the Floo would make me feel a little nauseous,´ I started (McLuff nodded and then, surprised, eyed Lucius: her patient knew what a Floo was!), ´and travelling by broom just isn't very appealing.´

´Then a car it is,´ Lucius agreed with a content smile.

´Perhaps you could wear one of your _normal_ dresses? For Draco's sake.´

A car for a dress.

´Of course,´ I pleasantly replied.

OoOoOoO

A character's outfit always helps me handle her.

It was a good thing that I'd played in several costume dramas. I _know_ how to deal with multi layered dresses. Many actresses feel restricted by gowns, but _I_ don't: I like their heaviness and I enjoy the rustle of skirts.

Without looking into the mirror I put my hair in a chignon.

When I was ready to eye my reflection a cool regal beauty looked back at me.

I tilted my head.

Narcissa seemed to be powerful.

She raised her eyebrows and I gave her a promising smile: whoever it was who had got me into this would regret it.

I breathed in deeply.

´Action!´


	4. Home sweet home

~4 Home sweet home~

The house, or manor as Lucius called it, was quite impressive, in a gloomy sort of way. It would make a wonderful home for Heathcliff or count Dracula, if one could forget about the beautiful garden and the elegant interior. And the elves. And the portraits.

It was creepy. Despite my new mantra I was unable to reply verbally to Lucius's remarks (´I'm sure your memory will return soon, now that you are back in your own surroundings. Would you like to freshen up before seeing Draco? He's waiting in the Green Room.´).

I _knew_ it was real. But it helped me relax picturing a director to have cried _Puppet master ready? Cartoon ready? Actors ready? Action!_

I smiled at a portrait who bore a striking resemblance to Lucius though judging by the gentleman's outfit they'd been born centuries apart.

´Do you remember him?´

I shook my head.

´Lord Henry,´ Lucius addressed the portrait, ´you've heard that my lady had a concussion.´

´I have indeed.´

Looking at _me_, Henry continued: ´We all hope that your head will be healed ma'am.´

From a distance I heard other voices approving of Henry's words. I looked around and saw several painted Malfoys nodding at me.

I took a deep breath. _Play the part play the part play the part_.

´Thank you sir. We will have to get acquainted again... I hope you will be so kind as to help me find my way here.´

Henry cast a glance at Lucius and promised me that he would assist me any time. We greeted each other and Lucius took me by my elbow (which for some reason is a very sensual gesture to me; I thought it better _not_ to shrug the wizard off). While escorting me further into the house, he asked whether I _really_ didn't know my way in the manor.

I confirmed his understatement. He sighed and promised me that it would all work out _just fine_.

I told myself that I should be glad I had not ended up in _Jurassic Park: they're back! _Having a T-Rex think you were dinner was far worse than being a wealthy lady in a comfortable mansion.

OoOoOoO

Admittedly, the first seconds after entering the room where Draco was waiting for us were awkward enough for me to think that one could at least _hide_ from a _dinosaur_.

Lucius's son, who I had expected to be an arrogant brat, proved to be a kind, concerned boy.

It didn't take long before I found myself chatting about the injuries of some of the patients I'd seen, after which Draco shared horror stories from Hogwarts's infirmary.

When tea was served, I thanked the elf, which made Draco nervously eye his father. Lucius gave his son a reassuring look.

´I rather like this room,´ I said.

´You _did_ decorate it Narcissa.´

By way of reply I poured father and son tea. When I reached for the honey, Lucius magicked it toward me. I couldn't hide being startled.

Draco quickly started talking about Quidditsh.

I was grateful for his response and searched my brain for something to contribute.

My nephew Davy had lent me his Harry Potter books but I'd skipped the pages describing the matches: I'm not into ball games and I had too much to read in too little time as it was. Davy _loved_ Quidditsh and he had attempted to teach me the rules. I had actually remembered some things. There was this thing with wings that had to be caught. There were two players who could knock people off their brooms by throwing big balls at them. There were also field players who tried to score with another ball and there was a goalie.

Draco said that he would try to become a chaser.

Oh yes, the chaser. How could I for- _Become_ a chaser?

I looked at him.

He was a _boy_. A twelve year old boy. Twelve! He was twelve!

Lucius told Draco that it would be wonderful if he'd manage to do so.

´Mother?´

´Narcissa?´

´Mother you look very pale, are you all right?´

´Darling, I think it's best if you took a rest,´ Lucius said, rising.

Draco got to his feet as well.

´No no, I'm fine,´ I lied with a smile. I didn't _want_ to be alone. Twelve years old! I needed someone to play opposite to, or I would _scream_.

Why hadn't I thought of it before? Lucius should be in Azkaban.

´I'm really fine,´ I insisted.

Free as a bird Lucius didn't press me. He and Draco sat down again.

Draco told us about his reading list. Lucius commented the number of Lockhart's books. I smiled and nodded and I am afraid I would also had done that had he scolded elves or said that cows have eight legs.

In my mind's eye I was back at the hotel.

_Until the project is completed, the contracting party should be present on the set_.

What bloody project was that? And how long would it take? A year? Until the end of Draco's sixth year at Hogwarts? Until Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort?

I started tapping the arm rest of my chair.

And there I was thinking that I'd have more screen time as a corpse in an episode of _Daziel and Pascoe _than I would have as a speaking witch in _the half blood Prince. _

I made a throatily sound and looked at Draco, who tried not to glance at me, and at his father, who focused on the boy.

I had to make a plan of action. What happened? Who got me here and why? Were there more actors trapped? Company in distress makes sorrow less.

The Malfoys were both enjoying their tea.

´Lucius?´

´Yes?´

´I wonder whether there are more reports about people showing up in muggle outfits, with the same symptoms as I have.´

His expression showed surprise and approval.

´You're right. The healers didn't think of that. I will contact them.´

´Thank you.´

_Until the project is completed, the contracting party should be present on the set_.

The thing about T-Rexes: it's over before you know it.


	5. Act one

~5 Act one~

Several years ago I had a major part in a Hollywood film. During the Cannes festival the producers housed the lead actors in a hotel where Kings and Presidents had rested their pampered bodies. The furniture and materials in my suite had made me lick my lips.

Narcissa's rooms were likewise gorgeous.

´Do you remember things?´ Lucius hopefully asked.

´It _seems_ familiar,´ I replied, stepping out of the bathroom.

I didn't really lie. Had I had money, _real money_, I would have decorated the rooms just like this.

_I_ smiled at _him_.

_He_ smiled at _me_.

With the Queen size bed being requisite-ish in the background, I was very aware of the fact that the handsome blond standing near me considered himself to be my husband.

_I_ looked away.

_He_ cleared his throat.

I walked back to Narcissa's study (which formed the entrance to the rest of the suite) and stifled a yawn. I know how to do that in a charming and _very_ lady-like way.

´Well, I think you should get some sleep darling.´

After pretending to give it a thought, I nodded.

OoOoOoO

I didn't go to bed of course.

I paced up and down from the study to the bedroom and back, asking myself the W questions over and over again until my attention was drawn by a movement: tiny tot Draco was waving at me from a photo, rolling a ball away, which re-found its way to the frame. The boy looked positively cute.

I studied other pictures, feeling like a visitor who would soon be caught.

A wedding picture of Lucius and Narcissa made me tilt my head: Lucius's right hand on Narcissa waist made for a loving gesture, not for a possessive one. And Narcissa looked at Lucius with tenderness and confidence. When she glanced at the camera, part of me expected her to call me a cheater. All she did was apply pressure to Lucius's left hand (entwined with hers) which made _him_ look at the camera too. They smiled warmly.

It was a little strange to see myself (as it were) on a picture I'd never posed for.

With a jolt I realised I had not given a thought to Narcissa.

I sat down at her desk.

Where was she? Was she part of this? Had she met the lawyer too? The book she'd bought as well as her wand had been in the man's pink bag, though that didn't have to mean she'd handed them voluntarily.

Had _she_ found herself in the real world, standing in front of Waterstone's and staring at a pile of Potter?

And if so she might claim to be a witch. People would shake their heads: some actors _really_ go too far getting into their part.

Where _was_ Narcissa Black Malfoy and where was _I_? Was _she_ me or was _I_ lost? Was my brother looking for me, worried sick?

The thought of my relatives and friends being afraid for my safety (or sanity) made me cry and if _some_ tears were spilt because I was where I was, I wasn't going to blame myself for that.

When I'd regained myself, I pictured Narcissa in _my_ apartment and that made it easier to go through her wardrobe and take out a nightgown.

Feeling I wouldn't be able to sleep yet, I explored the suite into more detail.

As I was standing in the study holding the type of artefact mothers receive from their children, I heard a soft knock.

´Yes?´

When no one entered, I walked to the door, but a polite cough made me look to the right. On a painting facing the bedroom wall a lady had appeared.

_Play the part play the part play the part._

´Good evening,´ I greeted her.

´Good evening Narcissa. Do you recall who I am?´

´No I do not, I'm sorry.´

´My name is Wilhelmina. I am Lucius's great-great-grandmother.´

Before I had a chance to reply, she continued: ´Henry has already spoken to you I believe. I hope he told you how glad we are that you are all right-ish again?´

´Yes he did, thank you.´

She smiled at me affectionately.

´Pray tell me,´ I was encouraged to ask, ´have we spoken yesterday morning?´

´Yes we have indeed. Just before you left for London.´

´Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?´

´What do you mean?´

´Did I act... strangely?´

Wilhelmina didn't have to think about it: ´Not at all! Let me see, we talked about the garden needing some rain. You hoped to find the book you wanted to buy... Nothing strange at all. You planned to be back by tea time. When your husband returned and found out that you were still gone, he went off to Diagon Alley to search for you.´

´He didn't find me in the Alley,´ I confessed, ´I was in muggle London.´

I must say that I expected a more impressive reply than: ´Ah!´

I raised my eyebrows.

´You must have made an appointment with your _sister,_´ Wilhelmina informed me, ´I hope Lucius hasn't seen her?´

´No he hasn't. But _I _can't recall having met her either.´

´I am _sure_ you had a meeting with her. Who else could it be?´

I nodded and then repeated my stifled yawn act. Wilhelmina too took the hint.

There's more to Narcissa than meets the eye...

She's seeing Andromeda... Is that what Lucius thinks too? No wonder he hadn't commented any further: imagine having to talk about a blood traitor.

OoOoOoO

The next morning Draco was waiting for me in the breakfast room. Henry, who had escorted me there, took a painted seat and fell asleep.

Draco informed me that his father had left for work.

The boy kindly mentioned things about the manor and the household (for instance which elf was responsible for what and the fact that his father returned home from London for lunch during the vacations). He happily remarked that I remembered liking marmalade on my toast.

I didn't tell him that most people do.

He volunteered to show me around the house and the gardens, so off we went. At my request Draco first took me toward the Owl House.

´Would you like me to get you your wand Mother?´

´How do you know I don't carry it with me?´

The boy gestured toward my dress's skirt.

´Your wand pocket is empty,´ he explained.

I realised it would be embarrassing if I'd searched the fabric so all I did was tell the boy that he was a keen observer. It made him smile.

´Do you want me to get it for you?´ he asked again.

´No thank you.´

´Father will like it if you did some magic,´ he slowly said.

´And so would you?´

He shrugged, then nodded.

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't tell him that I was afraid of even _holding_ his mother's wand. Yesterday evening Lucius had placed it on the mantelpiece in his wife's bedroom.

I knew there was some sort of bond between witch and wand and I pictured the piece of wood screaming: ´fraud fraud!´ the moment I touched it.

Fortunately we'd reached the Owl Tower.

´Let me see if I remember correctly,´ I started, ´when you want to send someone a message, you make a note, attach it to the owl's leg and say for whom it is?´

´See?´ Draco proudly smiled, ´Your memory is getting back Mother!´

´But how does the owl know where the receiver can be found?´

Draco shrugged: ´I don't know, she just does. Malawi never fails.´

More information. Thank you Draco.

I didn't ask the boy why night birds were used to deliver letters and packages 24/7.

Draco then showed me the house and gardens. The Malfoy estate had a kitchen-garden, a flower garden, a greenhouse and an English garden (with majestic old trees and a perfectly trimmed lawn). Everything _outside_ was reassuringly normal.

OoOoOoO

´School will start in a week. We will go to Diagon Alley coming Friday,' Lucius informed his son during lunch.

´Yes Father.´

´Did the two of you have a nice morning?´

´Yes we did Father. I showed Mother around. She very much liked the library.´

Lucius nodded his agreement. Thinking _I_ was busy slicing an egg he raised an eyebrow at his son, who shook his head.

´Could you pass me the butter please Narcissa?´

I _handed_ it to him.

´Thank you.´

He cleared his throat.

´So. Did the tour Draco gave you make you remember things?´

´I don't know,´ I slowly replied, ´It seems that there are things that I _know_, but _how_ I know _not_.´

´For instance that owls deliver messages,´ Draco helped.

´Yes. And that you go to Hogwarts. I know that I have two sisters and two cousins and that Bellatrix and Sirius are both in Azkaban.´

I heard an intake of breath from Draco.

´Would you like some salt to go with your egg?´

´No thank you Lucius. Is there any mayonnaise?´

My response made the Malfoys smile. Lucius magicked a little pot to me which, on opening, proved to held the finishing touch for my egg sandwich.

´I'm sure all will be well darling.´

Who would have thought Lucius was an optimist?

Would he still be if he knew about my plans?

Change the world: start at home.

Admittedly I felt a bit guilty about my scheme but Lucius wouldn't be hurt by it. And he could always blame his wife's concussion.

´Have you heard of St Mungo's yet?´

´No I haven't. I will contact them this afternoon.´

When Lucius had returned to London and Draco and his broom had gone outside, I walked to a part of the hall Draco had not bothered to show me.

I was not surprised to find a hidden staircase, nor was I astounded to learn it lead to the kitchen.

When I entered it I realised by the elves' shrieks that it was uncommon for the Malfoys to step into their domain. I counted them. Luck was with me for they were all present.

When I told the elves that I wanted to talk to them, they shut up, though they didn't look too happy.

´I'm sorry for interrupting. It will not take long.´

They stared at the floor.

´I am very content with your work,' I tried.

_One_ elf dared look at me now.

´I wonder whether you would like to have your working conditions changed?´

They eyed each other nervously.

´Everything fine for us ma'am,´ an ancient looking elf replied.

´Oh good. Would you like to get paid?´

It isn't a habit of mine to act bluntly, but I felt the need to speed things up: I was _not_ going to spend a day longer in this world than was needed. I reasoned that I had been brought here to change things and I wasn't going to wait until I was manipulated into doing so.

The elf who'd been the first to shriek, now started to cry. All elves took a small step backwards. All but one.

´M'lady?´

´Yes, Dobby?´

´Me would like to get some moneys for mines work.´

The crying elf started howling and the others attacked Dobby.

´Stop that!´

They froze.

´I understand that most of you do _not_ want to get paid.´

Those whom it concerned nodded enthusiastically.

´Dobby, could you come with me please.´

His colleagues looked at him with either fright or glee. Dobby slowly lowered his arms with which he had protected his head.

In the corridor to the kitchen the elf slowly approached me.

´I realise that it is unexpected Dobby, so should you want to think it over, that is fine with me. However, you might already have an idea as to how much you would like to get paid?´

His eyes nearly popped out and he stammered through his reply.

From the second book I recalled that the amount of money he'd ask Dumbledore was ridiculously low. In the morning paper I'd found an exchange rate for wizard money and normal money and after a little calculation (which was hard enough as it was without Dobby staring at me) I knew for sure that should a beggar gather Dobby's desired year's salary in a day, he'd consider it a day lost.

´Have you perhaps also thought about days off?´

He nervously shifted his weight to another foot but he made a suggestion nonetheless.

´Are you sure that is what you want? No less, no _more_…?´

Dobby nodded.

´We have a deal,´ I told him.

OoOoOoO

Before joining Draco in the garden, I paid a visit to the Owl Tower. Malawi only needed to hear her name to awake from her nap.

I attached a message to her paw, which she patiently extended.

´Could you bring this to Andromeda please?´

The owl's orange eyes disappeared in a blink and off she was.

I made it for the library. The scent of books was ever so relaxing and the filing system was just what it should be: alphabetical by subject. I selected several books among which _The prehistory_ and _The early days of wizardry_.

By the time I reached the garden door I was scolding myself for not wanting to walk twice. An elf happened to be polishing a door-knob nearby and he or she offered to carry the books for me.

´Me is careful with it M'lady,´ he-she told me.

´They are very heavy,´ I objected.

´Me is strong like a troll.´

I concluded this elf was a male. All I needed now was a name-tag.

´Well, you _could_ carry the two books at the top,´ I gave in. They were pressing against my breasts and ribs.

Either the elf moved very swiftly, or he'd used magic, but suddenly the books were held by him.

Draco had informed me about the various seats in the garden and _which_ were used _when_. Passing a large chestnut-tree he'd told me that it was the after-lunch spot, so that is were I was heading. A voice at hip height mentioned being obedient and good.

The elf glanced at me from the corner of his eye. Despite the fact that I knew it was all real, despite the fact I'd given Dobby a salary, part of me considered the elves to be highly complicated living dolls: Muppets without bright colours, visible wires and witty lines.

_Play the part._

´I'm sure all Malfoys elves are good.´

´If Mistress says so Healy must be wrongly.´

´How so?´

´Healy bad elf,´ he cursed himself, jamming his elbows into his sides.

´I don't want any elf hurting himself.´

He stopped doing so.

´Or anyone else for that matter,´ I added.

OoOoOoO

That evening Lucius told me that there had not been reports of other magicians with my symptoms. To his chagrin no spell had been found attached to my clothes so far.

´All those donations I made to St Mungo's and this is what I get for it,´ he complained.

I stifled a smile. He noticed it and smirked.

´Your Mother claims that donating to a hospital is _always_ good Draco.´

Narcissa and Lucius make for an interesting couple, I mused while smiling at the boy who didn't seem to know how to respond.

After dinner Draco talked Lucius into watching him fly. They went outside and I walked to the library.

Using my _muggle_ pencil I noted down cross-references I came across. I made sure that not every title could be found in Lucius's library. I had to have a reason to accompany father and son to Diagon Alley, didn't I?

Apart from reading and making notes I also rehearsed how to tell Lucius about the revolution that had taken place.

When Lucius entered the library (alone) and cleared his throat, I reasoned that my plan would go astray. Before I'd finished the thought Lucius started speaking.

Didn't I remember that we had _servants_? Why had I been carrying books as if I was an _elf_?

I let him talk. It seemed a Narcissa thing to do. I pictured she had patiently watched him pace the room on countless occasions.

I demurely placed my hands in my lap.

Lucius stopped dead in his tracks.

´Narcissa...´

´I asked the elves whether they liked to be paid. One of them did. He will receive a salary from now on,´ I announced.

Lucius's jaws tightened and he turned his back at me. He inhaled audibly and clenched his fists. There must have been a lot he'd wanted to say but to his credit (or perhaps to Narcissa's) he merely hissed: ´How much?´

I informed him.

´A week?´

´A year. It was _his_ suggestion. We can _still_ donate to St Mungo's Lucius.´

´Oh Narcissa,´ he sighed.

´Lucius, I think it was a good decision. _No one_ gets hurt by it,´ I promised.

By way of reply he studied one of the books that lay opened on the table.

´Do you remember anything?´ he changed the subject.

Before I could come up with something he added: ´About us?´

Lucius had treated me kindly and I wasn't going to repay him for that by making up memories. Besides, it would cause him to think I was going gaga.

´I _am_ sorry Lucius.´

He watched me intently.

´Perhaps if I visited Bellatrix and Sirius... they could inform me about my childhood...´

He closed the book.

´I doubt _they_ will be able to tell you a lot Narcissa.´

He cleared his throat.

´Besides, I don't want you to go anywhere before you can prove you can do magic.´


	6. Rock and roll

~6 Rock and roll~

Lucius insisting that I'd do magic had made me realise that entering the wizard world would be like entering the Olympics without arms and legs.

The plan I'd made seem inadequate now: how could I change the world when I would be regarded as a freak? How could I change the world if Lucius wouldn't let me leave the house?

Still, the first part of my plan had been to gain knowledge and I stubbornly stuck to it. Knowledge _always_ comes in handy.

I rose at six to study. I learned a lot about wizard history and about their views on _muggles_. I read about wands, snakes, Azkaban, wizard communities all over the world, the emancipation of witches, Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, elves, English wizard politics and various other subjects.

Whenever the idea popped up that theory was _one thing_ but that reading _wouldn't_ turn me into a witch, I allowed myself to be distracted:

Draco would read a few lines from a biography about a Quidditsh player and I'd be all ears.

A charming rogue by the name of Caesar Malfoy (a contemporary of George III) would appear in the painting opposite my seat and I'd chat with him.

And if there wasn't a Malfoy to interact with at moments panic struck me, I thought of reasons why Andromeda hadn't yet replied to my letter. Was she sick? Had she and Narcissa had an argument?

Not being able to please Lucius with any display of magic, I informed him about what I'd _learned_. I'm a fast reader and I hoped he'd be impressed by my studies, but all my labour earned me (apart from feeling less insecure and giving me an occasional fit of the giggles – for sometimes I could swear I was reading a discworld novel) was that Lucius told me that _at least_ my brain was still on Ravenclaw level.

He remembered too late that my response to his remark was worth watching: by the time he looked over his shoulder (he'd been opening a French window) I'd already hidden my surprise.

´It is my _memory_ that needs recovery Lucius,´ I smiled.

´I noticed that you carry your wand with you,´ he replied.

He was correct. In the morning I now took it with me, not to touch it again until undressing.

Me carrying it with me was like a blind woman wearing sunglasses: it was useless but it made others feel better.

´I might have something that will help you remember,´ Lucius said. He produced a pile of envelops from his robe's pocket and told me that many of my friends and acquaintance had written me after my accident. He had informed them that I was as of yet unable to reply.

´That was thoughtful of you Lucius, thank you.´

He inclined his head.

´How did they know about the accident?´

´It was in the papers.´

He made it sound perfectly normal. Well, perhaps Lucius and Narcissa were like Beckham and Posh. I shook my head at my comparison.

Lucius replied to my gesture: ´Yes, with the usual crap included_._´

Without checking the envelops he named several people who'd sent me letters.

Of course none of the names rang a bell until:

´Severus!´ I exclaimed.

In reply to my request to hand me Severus's letter, Lucius placed one after the other envelop on the table. I accepted the challenge: Alan had left me several notes in my dressing room when we'd made a film together.

´That one,´ I said after Lucius had placed the eighth envelop on the table.

Lucius handed me the envelop with a small smile and excused himself: he was going to watch his son fly. Taking the envelops with me, I made it for the library. Wilhelmina followed me.

´Pray tell me,´ she said, ´is there a letter from _Mr Collins_?´

I started checking the backsides of the envelops.

´Perhaps you forgot that Collins is the nickname you gave him?´ I heard her say behind me (she preferred to stay in a painting as long as possible. I believed that she found it undignified to run along).

´His real name is Angus McTod. He is a family friend -´

Now her voice was coming from in front of me: ´of the Blacks. When will you use your wand again?´

´I'm sorry?´

´You are a witch. Not some _muggle_.´

I stood in front of her and changed my expression into a hurt one.

´I'm sorry Narcissa, but you _are_ displaying a lot of un-witch like behaviour.´

´Such as?´ I challenged her.

´You use a muggle pencil. When you need something, you go and get it yourself instead of accio-ing it or ordering an elf to bring it to you. Speaking of which, there's the elf's _salary_. But you've always been eccentric about those creatures I suppose. Please my dear, use your wand.´

I continued to walk.

´Lucius is worried for you and so are we.´

For an entire painting free corridor there was piece and quiet. I thought about the fact that Narcissa apparently read muggle literature. I really ought to check the cupboards in her study more thoroughly.

When I rounded a corner Wilhelmina was waiting for me.

´All _we_ can do is hope that you will soon get well,´ she whispered, ´But Lucius might just bring you to St Mungo's, for further examination...´

´What? He _wouldn't_!´

´He is worried.´

It was a feeling we shared...

I sighed.

´You're a witch Narcissa!´ Wilhelmina urged.

OoOoOoO

In the library I found myself a painting-less spot near a window. I flicked through the envelops, then placed them on the small table next to my chair.

St Mungo's! Before you'd know it I'd end up in _one flew over the cuckoo's nest_.

I stared at my reflection. It occurs that when I see someone's reflection in a window, I think _now _there's _a beautiful woman_. It's not until I notice (to my embarrassment) that we are similarly dressed that I realise that _she_ is _me_. It's awkward when people witness my appreciative stare and I need not wonder why people who get to know me tell me that I'm not vain at all. Of course I'm not: _I_ know how I look like when I'm tired or without make-up. _I_ know how my skin reacts when I'm getting in my period. I _know_ how to spell cellulite.

I was aware that I was looking at _me _now, but I felt as if I was eyeing Narcissa Black Malfoy.

Just like in hospital, my imagine was connected to the word powerful. I got Narcissa's wand out, not breaking eye contact with my reflection.

The lady eyeing me suddenly had _witch_ written all over her.

She bit her lower lip and tilted her head. It made her look like an actress who hadn't yet figured out her character.

When I'd signed the contract (I would really have a word with the _lawyer_ should I bump into him) I'd pictured Narcissa to be a worried mother. The back-ground I'd created for her made her more than a humiliated former society Queen: she'd sought Severus's help and thus she'd stood up against Voldemort. Apart from that she was confident that Bellatrix wouldn't betray her.

_That_ Narcissa didn't exist now and as far as I was concerned, she never would.

With no script written out for me, I had the opportunity to shape my character just as _I_ wanted to.

That's positive, I told myself. I can be the most powerful witch in creation if I feel like it.

If only I played the part...

I opened Severus's letter. It read: ´_Please let me know if you need help. SS.´_

I smirked. Placing the sheet of paper back in its envelop I wondered whether it would have _nasty_ effects if I were a powerful magician.

Perhaps I'd better wonder whether it would be tricky if I were a common or garden witch?

Through the window the top branches of a bush with small yellow flowers were visible.

What if I turned it pink? I pointed Narcissa's wand at it.

What if it worked and the _it_ turned pink would be my reflection and _through that me_? What if everything outside turned pink? How do undo that? I might try _I want things to be the way they were_, but how would that work out?

What if the way things were was the way I'd noticed things to be? I knew that the leaves on the various trees were different shades of green, but which ones? Give me some colour-pencils and I was bound to make a mess of it. What about all the things I didn't even see? An elf working in the kitchen-garden, a dragon-fly sitting on a stone, ants working in their underground city...

I placed the wand next to me and stared at the blue lace cloth on the table next to me. It would look much better off-white. OK. I inhaled deeply. It was just a cloth.

_Play the part._

I can see the blue lace cloth on the table next to me. I notice the colour, the fabric...the size. I need not know the exact size or how it feels like. _It is the way it is_. Now I want that cloth to colour off-white.

I inhaled again and closed my eyes.

Make something magnificent of this part!

I thought of _Charmed_, of Avalon. I thought of power.

I'm a witch!

Now!

I opened my eyes and took the wand to point it at the cloth.

It was off-white.

OoOoOoO

When you stand on a chair and you jump, you'll hit the floor. Cause and result.

I rather like it when there's a connection between the two of them.

Then again: what do I know about gravity other than that it _works_? Films: I've acted in them, but I really don't understand how images can be caught. It's ma-

I picked up the cloth.

´It's magic to me.´

So? Let it be. I wanted to be a powerful witch. Lo and behold.

I laughed: a duel with Voldemort would hardly end up in altering the colours of table-cloths.

Not bothering to pick up the wand I continued to explore.

I want _this cloth_ to be its previous colour again.

It turned blue. I checked my fingers: not a trace of it.

Green, I thought.

And green it became.

I giggled.

Red, brown, half its seize, yellow, back to its previous size.

It all worked fine.

What would happen if I would use a colour I'd never heard off?

I turned to see if there was anyone around. In a painting of the Malfoy library I saw Wilhelmina strolling in front of a book case. I took the cloth and walked toward the frame.

´Wilhelmina, can you name a colour other than one of the primary colours?´

Startled, she gave it a thought.

´Mauve.´

It _did_ ring a bell. Oh well...

Mauve it is.

´It's a start my dear!´

What do they expect me to do? Bring down the moon?

´It really is! Though that is _not_ mauve,´ Wilhelmina added.

´It isn't?´

I looked at the cloth.

´No, mauve is a light purple.´

´Ah. I thought it was greenish.´

Mauve.

´Wonderful and without using a wand! I will tell the others immediately!´

Off she was.

This was intriguing. Turning things back to the way they _were_ seemed so much _harder_ than changing a colour, but things simply _are,_ independent of how they are viewed. The magic is in the words...

I was sure that the lawyer knew one or two things about that too...

OoOoOoO

Lucius and Draco entered the library just as I had _wanted_ a book to open on page 38, provided there were no nasty spells or other dangerous or damaging things on that page or the page next to it. I'm a cautious woman.

Draco happily told me he'd known all along that I'd do magic again. Lucius, holding his wand, favoured me with a smile. He said something which made Draco's mouth fall open.

The boy looked at the ceiling. I heard high shrieks. They were uttered by some bats who _had_ been silver ornaments on a chandelier. They came down. Toward me. Fast. Sharp teeth. Creeps! Freeze!

´Wow!´ Draco cried.

The bats hang in the air, unmoving. I'd pictured that, but I hadn't really _thought_ the words.

I swallowed hard.

It's maaaaaaaaa-gic. How else can I explain the rainbow – I shook my head. I had goose flesh all over.

Lucius, _that darling_, grinned at me.

´I'll put them back up,´ he said.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

I want the bats to fly back to the chandelier, take their original positions and be the ornaments they were.

The bats obliged.

Draco grinned, whispering something that sounded like _cool_.

His father looked at the chandelier.

´I'd like to go to London,´ I said. After clearing my throat I added: ´To buy some books.´

´Of course,´ Lucius replied.

´I'd rather not go alone though. Could I come with you when you go to Diagon Alley?´

Draco tried _not_ to glance at his father.

´I do not want to ruin your father-son outing. You can drop me at Tahl's if you like.´

After the trick Lucius had just pulled me, he wasn't in a position to say no.

´Of course Narcissa. I'd be delighted to have you with us.´

He sounded sincere. His name was not Jason, but he _was_ quite the actor.

My name was not Narcissa but I would be _quite_ the witch.


	7. Of books and tea

~7 Of books and tea~

The evening before our trip to Diagon Alley Lucius made an attempt to change my mind about joining Draco and himself.

´You hate crowds Narcissa.´

I made a small sound, indicating that I'd heard him, and continued to read about the history of wizard theatre in Britain.

He put an arm around my shoulders. He surely wanted me to think it was a casual gesture, but I looked up from my book _before_ he could hide the passion in his eyes. It was not the first time I'd spotted it. As always it made me feel uncomfortable, even though he always behaved like a gentleman. Because of that and because it was getting a little chilly in the room and his body was radiating warmth, and moreover because Draco served as a chaperone, I acted as if Lucius's nearness didn't bother me.

´I'm perfectly willing to drop by at Tahl's and get you the books you want,´ he continued.

I _reminded_ him that I loved to spend time in a book store.

´And you know how I always like to smell-´

´The paper. I know,´ he interrupted with a smile. He suggested that while we were in London, I'd have a look at The Garden.

´A botanical garden?´

´It's a street Mother,´ Draco said.

´Some time ago,´ Lucius explained, ´you suggested me to expand our property there. All buildings in the street now below to Malfoy Real Estate. They all house shops. Last week I received a letter from Mr Bhudram, from Bhudram, Jones and Clementine -which is a rather pretentious name for a store with books about _astrology_ if you ask me_._´

Draco smirked.

´There seems to be an argument among the tenants. And arguments are not good for business. I thought that perhaps you'd like to deal with it and smooth the disagreements.´

Stranger things had happened to me lately than someone believing that I was a businesswoman.

´Of course. But I don't want to drop by just like that. I'd rather visit The Garden another time, and meet Mr Budhram and the others then.´

´Excellent. Shall _I_ owl him or will you?´

As it happened Malawi had finally returned. Andromeda and Ted were spending a holiday at several owl days flying. Andromeda would contact me after their return.

´I will owl him, thank you.´

Lucius nodded.

´I will hand you the letter he sent me. You know darling, I wouldn't be surprised if you decided that The Garden could do with a new look. That's just your cup of tea.´

Narcissa liked mayonnaise on her egg sandwich, Narcissa liked the scent of new books, Narcissa liked to spend hours reading, Narcissa liked playing dominoes, Narcissa like interior decorating: the woman was so much like me, it was unsettling.

I wondered whether parallel worlds are bound to influence each other or that perhaps actors can colour their characters (after all: Rowling had merely drawn a rough sketch of Lucius's wife) or that, even more amazing, _me_ having a habit of doing something made _Narcissa_ do it in retrospective, making her husband and son _remember_ that she liked it.

Whatever the explanation was, Narcissa liked things going _her way: _on Friday the Malfoys escorted me to Diagon Alley.

OoOoOoO

Tahl's was like ABC and Waterstone's combined. Father and son fondly looked at my child-in-a-candy store-face and, convinced that I'd be all right, left for the less civilized parts of the Alley.

I quickly found the titles I'd noted down and some more. I paged through a book about Muggle history in which normal people were pictured to be barbarians, only slightly smarter than chimps. The book had been written in 1931, true, but the fact that it was still being sold annoyed me.

With my arms loaded with books I found my way to the cash point.

´I will take it off your account, shall I ma'am?´

I'd actually wanted to practise using wizard money, but there was a line, so I agreed to the salesman's suggestion.

´There are now 204 Galleons left on your account at Tahl's,´ the salesman discreetly whispered. In his normal voice he asked whether I wanted the books to be delivered at my home.

´I will take them with me,´ I said. As I reduced the size and weight of the books to carry them in a leather bag I'd brought with me, I told the salesman that my husband would pick me up here but that I desperately needed some tea.

´Could you be so kind as to inform him that I'll be across the street? He's a tall blond man.´

The man smiled: ´I know how your husband looks like Lady Malfoy.´

OoOoOoO

The _across the street_ I'd spotted was tea room Bergstrom's. Its entrance was in a charming side street of the Alley called Babylon's End. It was crowded but I was lucky to find a free table on the second floor from where I could view both streets.

The smell of freshly baked muffins filled the room. It even affected passers-by, who tilted their heads and smiled dreamily. Space cake couldn't have had a more powerful effect. I just _had_ to try it. I ordered a small pot of Darjeeling and a chocolate muffin and planned to start reading one of my cute little books. I was ever so proud (not to mention relieved) to have done magic amidst magicians.

A girl with red hair appeared near me. She looked around, noticed that all tables were occupied, glanced at my table for four and turned to leave.

Red hair.

´You can sit _here_ if you like.´

She shrugged.

´There are three free chairs...´ I invited.

She smiled shyly, and to my excitement walked to the small staircase to cry out: ´You can come up mum!´

There she was: plump and tired Molly Weasley.

´That table is already taken Ginny!´ she exclaimed when her daughter was about to sit down at my table.

´The lady said it was OK for us to sit here,´ Ginny said, straightening herself again.

I confirmed her words.

Mrs Weasley seemed to recognize a familiar face, but she shook off the feeling.

´You must long for a seat,´ I said, gesturing towards the bags she was carrying.

She stepped forwards.

´Are you sure you don't mind?´ she asked.

´Absolutely.´

Ginny settled her mother's dilemma by dropping herself on a chair.

A waiter approached to hand Mrs W a menu.

´Oh no, we only came to have a cup of tea,´ she said in a worried voice. ´And you know Ginny, perhaps we'd better leave to meet your father and brothers.´

´We have half an hour before we need to go mum. And you just said that your feet were killing you.´

´A chair to rest your feet and tea because we're British,´ I said, ´Do you like Darjeeling?´

Mrs W only nodded. I addressed the waiter: ´Could my order be changed into a three person order please?´

´Of course ma'am.´

The waiter left.

Mrs W finally sat down.

Ginny addressed me.

´We'll meet them at Flourish & Blott's. We're gonna buy school books.´

´For Hogwarts?´

A proud nod answered my question.

´Will you be going there as well?´

Ginny smiled broadly.

I smiled at her mother, who returned it.

´My brothers are at Hogwarts too,´ the girl continued, ´The two eldest already left school, but the others are still going there. They're all in Gryffindor. I hope Gryffindor will be my House too.´

´It would be nice to be in the same House wouldn't it?´

The waiter brought my order. Ginny's eyes were like golf balls when she saw the huge muffins. Pretending I didn't notice her mother glancing at a price list which was chalked on a wall, I checked the contents of the tea pot and found that it needed more brewing.

´Please help yourselves,´ I said, gesturing at the muffins, ´and allow it to be my treat.´

The mother objected, but the daughter didn't need to be asked twice.

´Hmmm! Mum, you should taste this! It's great!´

And so it was. It was the best muffin I ever had. The looks on our faces persuaded Mrs W to have one too.

Halfway the muffin I poured us tea.

Ginny, remembering what she'd been talking about, sang Gryffindor's praises. When she began to comment other Houses, her mother stopped her.

´Ginny, everyone from our family may have visited Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, but the lady might not have and you wouldn't want to hurt her feelings would you? All Houses are equal!´

Ginny gave her mother a _you don't believe that yourself_ look, but she mumbled an apology anyway.

´We all have our preferences I'm sure,´ I replied, not hiding my amusement.

´What House were you in?´ the girl asked.

´I was in Ravenclaw.´

Mrs W nodded agreeably.

´I told my daughter that if she's lucky she'll make friends for life at school.´

I didn't have any friends left from high school myself (although after I'd become famous my former class mates seemed to disagree on that), and I didn't know whether Narcissa had, but I nodded still.

Ginny happily chatted about Hogwarts and Hagrid and the professors and ghosts she already knew from her brothers' stories.

I poured us a second cup of tea.

´I'm so sorry,´ I said, putting down the pot as if I suddenly had a brain wave, ´I haven't even introduced myself yet.´

Molly Weasley mumbled her apologies for having forgotten it herself. Ginny took another bite of her muffin, leaving it to the adults to set things right.

I extended my hand and Molly took it.

´Narcissa Malfoy,´ I said.

Yes: it had her -and her daughter as well- flabbergasted.

´Mo- Molly Weasley.´

´Pleased to meet you Mrs Weasley.´

Addressing the girl I remarked: ´And you are Ginny?´

She nodded.

´Ginevra. But everyone...´

´Shortens it,´ I said understandingly.

Ginny nodded again.

Her mother seemed anxious to find another subject to talk about. She'd put down her muffin and gestured toward the majestic building which housed Tahl's.

´I feel as if we walked in to every shop in town, don't you Ginny? And yet we haven't been there, have we dear?´

´Oh but you should visit it. It's paradise!´ I said.

The girl giggled and her mother studied me.

´It _is,_´ I added as if they'd opposed what I'd said, ´Give me books, tea and muffins and I'm a happy woman.´

I meant every word, but my endearing smile (which -as a young actress – I'd practised to perfection in front of my mirror) was designed to charm my guests.

It didn't fail me: it first captured Ginny (who was still copying the way I held my cup). Her mother, who'd formed her opinion about the Malfoys years ago, was harder to conquer. I was glad to get a brief smile from her.

´My mum likes to read too,´ the girl revealed. Her mother cleared her throat.

´Do you know Gilderoy Lockhart's books?´ she said.

´No I don't,´ I replied.

´Mum _loves_ his books. He'll be at Flourish & Blott's this afternoon, to sign books.´

Molly Weasley blushed. Addressing me she said: ´He's a fine storyteller.´

She was right about that. And I planned to find out in person: I would suggest professor Dumbledore that I'd give drama classes at Hogwarts. The school was the centre of the books, geographically anyway, and if I wanted to return home, I'd have to start my journey in the lion's den.


	8. An eventful week

~8 An eventful week~

It was 2 September and Lucius was pissed. With me.

He was polite to be sure and he didn't attempt to kiss my cheek or put his arm around me any more so I shouldn't have complained. I felt bad nonetheless.

I felt bad because _I_ had acted as if _Narcissa_ wasn't married. Sure enough: _I'd_ been single for years and the occasional men in my life had never moved in with me. _I_ am used to handle things independently.

_And_ there was the little thing of me wanting to return to the normal world, which I think allowed me to act boldly. But still... I had conveniently not involved Lucius and he didn't deserve that. Of course, had I told him about my plan beforehand and should he have objected, that would not have stopped me from executing it, but at least he would have _known_.

No, telling Lucius just like that that Albus Dumbledore was enthusiastic about my proposal to give drama classes at Hogwarts had _not_ been a sensitive thing to do.

Not planning to make that mistake again I informed him that I was going to visit Azkaban. He told me no. First he tried to convince me that my sister and cousin wouldn't be able to trigger my memory any better than he and Draco had. Then he said that people _in that place_ were hardly allowed to have visitors. He added that it would be hard to get a permission to see them. I admitted that I'd sent the Minister a request to visit my relatives.

The tension in the room build. But what choice did I have but to go through with it?

´I've already received an access pass.´

Henry and Wilhelmina, who'd been strolling in a painting of the manor's garden, made themselves scarce.

´Don't you remember?´ Lucius burst out, ´Don't you recall how you _hated_ that place? How it made you _sick_?´

He turned his back at me.

´For Salazar's sake,´ he hissed.

´Lucius -´

´For crying out loud Narcissa! Don't you even remember _that_?´

An angry Lucius makes for quite a picture and I couldn't think of an appropriate reply. At least I recalled that he'd been in Azkaban himself, which explained for this strong reaction.

My silence made him face me again. He probably concluded that I _truly_ didn't remember and from his changed expression I reasoned that he figured that it wasn't a bad thing: no one would care to remind his wife that he's been in prison.

I helped him: ´Have I visited Sirius and Bellatrix _before_? Did it cause a migraine?´

He cleared his throat and nodded.

´I still want to see them. I don't like it that I know nearly nothing about my past. Our past. The fact that I recall who they are, that I know their names and their relation to me must _mean_ something.´

Still a little angry he raised his eyebrows.

´Perhaps. Especially since you called _me_ by a wrong name at first.´

I shyly looked down.

´Jason!´ he whispered with contempt, ´As if I look like a Jason!´

I shook my head, making a throatily sound of amusement.

´Don't pout,´ I said and I cupped his cheek.

Well, I felt guilty and he looked haughty and lost and adorable at the same time. I just didn't know what else to do.

My touch made him exhale and before I could withdraw my hand, he had captured it. Moving his head to the side, he kissed my palm and then released me.

´So Azkaban it is?´

I met his eyes and nodded.

He picked up one of my books and cleared his throat: ´Does Draco know you'll be teaching at Hogwarts?´

I'd been forgiven!

´I asked professor Dumbledore not to tell anyone yet so I can inform Draco myself.´

´Good. How are you progressing regarding The Garden?´

´I will visit it tomorrow morning.´

It seemed a wise decision not to mention that I would afterwards meet Andromeda.

OoOoO

'Our shop will keep its name! It's a beautiful name, it's our name! I don't want coronation or daisy on my shop-window!'

´Be _calm_ Amit,' tailor Hastings whispered, but Desmond Rodick, who organised parties and events fanned the fire: 'Hear hear!'

I was amusing myself. It turned out that one of the shopkeepers, a Mr Jericho, wanted all the stores in The Garden (in fact called The Flower Garden) to be named after... flowers. Mr Jericho, a middle aged former civil servant, had named his shop Hyacinth, but Mr Budhram opposed him.

´Five flower names and eleven shops, it's not enough!´ Jericho said in his baritone voice.

Patricia Annis, the owner of 'Fleur', rubbed her back against her chair and said: ´My shop was named after my sister and had she been called Marian, that name would now grace my front.´

Mr Rodick started to smirk, but I gave him a warning look and he studied the table-linen.

We had gathered in restaurant Violet in The Garden, which bore similarities to a cave. The cream coloured linen somehow added to that feeling and the beautiful flowers (which had been arranged by Johan Tilleman - as the florist had repeatedly told me) seemed horribly out of place.

'If I may summarize,´ I said, ´Mr Jericho feels that The Flower Garden would benefit if all shops were named after flowers.´

Jericho inclined his head.

´I like the idea of this part of Diagon Alley to have an appeal to the public, but I feel that one should be allowed to name her or his store just as one likes.'

Mr Budhram exhaled.

I took a sip of my tea. As I'd hoped no one spoke. I was starting to like this_. _Nodding at Mr Jericho I continued: 'I think that the number of shoppers and as a result your sales figures will rise if the street _itself_ is altered.´

I willed a scale model of The Garden to appear on the middle of the table. It slowly turned around. I'd practised it at home and I was rather proud of it. By the looks of it my public was impressed (elf Lucy, in charge of shopping for groceries, had looked at the model _wider-eyed _and she'd confirmed that it was just as it was, but then smaller).

'The gate enables street-traders to seek refuge for the rain. I can imagine that it discourages customers from entering The Flower Garden...´ I said with a smile, not mentioning the penetrating scent of urine that clung in the entrance to the small street_._

I showed them my plans with The Garden and they were all enthusiastic.

´So I may execute this?´

As the _absolutelies_ and the _that would be wonderfuls_ filled my ears, I closed my eyes to concentrate.

I heard someone mention money, but she was hushed. They became silent and I figured that they were staring at me and throwing each other meaningful glances. I didn't care: I'd not done this before and I needed to focus.

Through my closed lids I noticed that there was more light in the room.

´Oh Merlin,´ I heard in a whisper.

When I'd checked all the boxes on my list, I opened my eyes.

The restaurant no longer looked like a cave. I didn't care for the migraine attack that was on its way: I could only smile.

OoOoO

On entering the grand café in muggle London where Narcissa's sister and I had arranged to meet, I felt as if I could faint any moment. When someone put an arm around my shoulders, sat me down and searched my bag, I neither objected, nor realised who had come to my aid.

Some time later on a pretty woman of about forty handed me a cup of tea. She looked exactly like the woman on the holiday picture Andromeda had sent me, but then without the bright smile.

´Feeling better?´

I made an affirmative sound.

´Done something major?´

´Uhm.´

A few minutes later on I slowly added: ´I changed the Flower Garden.´

´Oh?´

´It was fun.´

´Fun enough for a headache?´

´Yes.´

´Well, I should have a look then. Are you sure you're better? You still look pale.´

In the past days I had worried about many things but _not_ about whether or not I'd get along with Narcissa's sister. The fact that the two of them met at all, must mean that they liked each other and since Narcissa seemed to appreciate the same things _I_ did, I'd reasoned that Andromeda would be a likeable person. Still, it was amazing how comfortable I felt in her presence.

She had written me to remind me where _I_ kept my muggle clothes. My miniature witch outfit was stored in my bag and for the first time in what seemed an eternity I was wearing jeans.

When the colour returned to my cheeks, Andromeda wanted to know what I remembered. I yawned and told her that I knew that her daughter was called Nymphadora and that her husband Ted was afraid of heights. She laughed: on the picture the two of them were sitting on an elephant and his discomfort was obvious. When I didn't continue talking, not having much more to _recall_, she became silent. Suddenly she straightened up.

´Hubby isn't giving you trouble?´

I shook my head and hid a yawn: ´He's been very kind.´

´Good!´

´I'm going to see Bellatrix and Sirius tomorrow.´

Narrowing her eyes she tilted her head.

´What are you up to?´

I grinned.

She laughed.

OoOoO

Once I entered Fort Azkaban the scent of the sea, which I'd enjoyed outside the prison, was completely gone. Inside it smelled of old stones and sweat. The guard who'd opened the door gave me a piercing look, as if to scare me. He had a face to be cast as a guard: stupid and cruel with _I can be bribed_ written all over it.

He undressed me with his eyes and then growled: ´Wand.´

I raised my eyebrows.

´Wand please. Standard procedure.´

I gave the man a stare.

´Ma'am,´ he added.

´I know that one is not allowed to bring one's wand,´ I said with a smile, ´and therefore I haven't taken mine with me.´

He looked at me suspiciously and waved his own wand at me, mumbling something.

The result made him shrug. He took a notebook from a shelf.

´You're here to see?´

I handed him my access pass.

´Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange.´

'We haven't put them two together,' he grinned after skipping through the letter.

´That was a wise decision,´ I commented.

After writing something down in the notebook, he returned the pass: ´I'll show you to them.´

A while later on the guard kicked against a door.

´You've gotta visitor Black!´

The moron positioned himself in the doorway but I'm a slim woman and I managed to avoid touching him.

´You've got fifteen minutes. Wanna go sooner, call me.´

´I will, thank you.´

The door fell close behind me.

When the echo had died away I heard the wind howling and water dripping. Apart from that it was silent. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness the chilly air made me shiver.

'Narcissa?'

I gasped.

Sirius dragged me to a part of his cell where some light fell down. He studied my features. His foul breath entered my nose.

´What are you doing here?´

The man's looks weren't the result of carefully applied make-up. He had actually _lived_ in misery for _years_. It left me speechless, until he started shaking me rather roughly to get a response.

I freed myself from his grip.

'We don't have a lot of time. I had a concussion. My memory is more or less gone.´

His expression turned foul. Before he could speak his mind I continued: ´I _do_ know that you took no part in the killing of James en Lily Potter. And I finally know how to prove your innocence.'

Sirius moaned.

´I will get you out of here.´

Sirius just stared at me.

´I'm not fooling you around Sirius. It will no doubt take some time, so I brought you chocolate against the Dementors.´

I took a cotton bag with candy bars out of my cloak's pocket. He accepted it in a daze. The man looked truly horrible. It made me feel sick.

I chatted along: ´Is there anything else you'd like to have? I could have brought you a torch come to think of it.´

He made a throatily sound.

´That will only -´

He coughed: ´- make me see the rats.´

I swallowed.

´You're innocent. I'll get you out Sirius. You will see Grimmauld Place again.´

He started crying.

´Please,´ he whispered, ´Could you ho-´

I held him.

When we heard footsteps he dried his cheeks with a dirty sleeve.

´Returning home?´

I shook my head: ´I'm going to see Bellatrix.´

His mood changed immediately.

´Do you think _she's_ innocent too?´ he said in a low voice.

´She's a dangerous sadist. But she might be able to trigger my memory, so I'll visit her.´

Silence.

´Have I?´

´No, I'm afraid not. We'll meet again Sirius.´

´Don't know when don't know where,´ he replied.

Didn't he believe me?

´But we _will_ meet again some sunny day.´

He made a small sound of surprise.

OoOoO

The guard had brought two colleagues with him to escort me to Bellatrix. I felt their eyes on my back.

'Visitor Lestrange!´

Holding his wand the guard turned to me: ´Same story here ma'am. Watch it, this one's poisonous.'

The men sniggered.

Sirius's cell had small barred holes high up a wall, but this one was completely deprived of light and air and it smelled accordingly. I breathed through my mouth. What was I _doing_ here? I now wouldn't have to _lie_ to Lucius about having seen Bellatrix, but my curiosity, partly responsible for me walking into the woman's cell, was satisfied already. Still, I'd be damned if I'd call the guards.

'Hello?´

My voice cut through a spooky silence.

´Bellatrix?'

A cry.

´Bellatrix? Where are you?´

She must have found me by focussing on my voice. Out of nowhere two claw like hands were placed on my shoulders.

´Did _he_ sent you?´

Her voice was rough, like Sirius's voice had been.

´He isn't angry with me, is he? You must tell him that I love him Cissa!'

She fell to her knees and – putting her arms around my legs – started crying.

´You must! You must! I _love_ him! I _never_ denied him. Not I. NOT I!´

I wanted to leave. I felt cold and sick and her cries went to the bone. But what do you do when a murderer who thinks you're her sister seeks comfort? The answer presented itself when she clung so close to me that I nearly lost my balance. I steadied myself by placing my hands on her head and feeling ashamed of that I patted her to make up for it.

I was _very_ glad to hear footsteps. I took another supply of chocolate from my pocket and held it behind my back so Bellatrix would feel it.

´Is it... a wand?´

´Just chocolate. But it will help against the Dementors.´

A knock on the door made her swallow her reply. Taking the bag with her she swiftly retreated.

OoOoO

Once outside the fortress I took a seat on a rock to do yoga. When I'd recovered I willed Lucius's cuff-links to glow and he came to get me.

He took me to his office where he served me tea and chocolate cookies.

´Draco replied to your letter,´ he said, handing me a note.

The boy wrote that if I wanted to teach drama, it was fine with him.

He didn't have a choice really, but his reply was gracious nonetheless.

´Welcome at Hogwarts Mother,´ I quoted from the letter.

Lucius smiled: ´We have a wonderful son, don't we Narcissa?´

I kept glancing at the letter and smiled proudly as befitted the mother of a wonderful son. Lucius kissed my forehead.

´The boy has your wit,´ he whispered.

´But not my _House_,´ I whispered back.

He gave me a boyish grin: ´Every Malfoy has been a Slytherin.´

´Well, as long as he is healthy,´ I replied with a shrug.

It made Lucius chuckle.

OoOoO

With professors such as McGonagall, Dumbledore and Snape one would expect an informal evening to be an intellectual gathering. Trelawney and Lockhart added their own flavour to the party though.

It was the evening of 7 September.

Dumbledore had introduced me to his staff. They all seemed to like me, safe Minerva McGonagall. It helped me to see her as a witch instead of as a famous Thespian. She questioned me about my interest for acting and concluded that people who liked to watch plays, didn't necessarily make good directors.

´In general I think you are right Minerva, but I think that Lady Malfoy will make a wonderful director: after all when one is enthusiastic about something, when there's passion, well...´

´Thank you professor Sprout,´ I said with a bright smile, ´I spent a lot of time figuring out how to do this, otherwise I wouldn't have _dreamt_ of suggestion the Headmaster to have a theatre class.´

Sprout nodded and smiled, but McGonagall tried to stare me down. Severus meanwhile had gotten rid of Lockhart (by having him pester Hagrid and Professor Vector) and he joined us.

´You must have been a busy woman,´ the Head of Gryffindor remarked, ´I read about The Flower Garden. I hope it didn't get you into trouble?´

´How considerate of you professor! No, not at all. The civil engineers couldn't discover any faults.´

´It would have been best if you'd shown them your plans with the buildings _before_ 'executing' them,´ McGonagall stated, smoothly criticizing me twice.

´When _I_ want to brew something new,´ Severus said in his sexy low voice, ´I just _do_ it.´

Sprout smiled at no one in particular.

´Yes but _you_ are a _Master _at -´ McGonagall started.

Professor Flitwick, standing nearby, interrupted Trelawney's dramatic predictions regarding his brother and amicably winked at McGonagall: 'But Lady Malfoy is a _Ravenclaw_ Minerva, never forget that!´

About an hour later on professor Dumbledore accompanied me to the gate. Although he'd charmingly welcomed me at Hogwarts, we hadn't talked. We _had_ observed each other though.

´So Miss Bl- I should say Lady Malfoy, I'm sorry. Seeing you on these grounds...´

I smiled at him. He returned it.

´I was worried when I read about your concussion,´ he said, looking ahead, ´but from new reports I concluded that everything in the garden is lovely.´

I made a throatily sound.

´It would be even more wonderful if I would know what _caused_ the concussion. I have the feeling that the healers have given up on it.´

´Do you recall anything about your past?´

I felt awkward and from the way he avoided to look into my eyes I concluded that _he_ wasn't at ease either. It made it all the more logical that Dumbledore was involved in this.

At the moment I just _didn't have it in me_ to ask him about it, even though I'd rehearsed our conversation again and again. I could blame the strange sounds coming from the estate or Hogwarts towering behind us, or the length of Dumbledore's beard, but all those things combined didn't explain my silence on the subject. I was simply afraid of the answer the Headmaster would give.

´I recall things, but _strange_ things. Things that don't seem to have been of importance to myself. But the mind is said to be the most astounding thing in the universe...´

I glanced at him.

´For instance,´ I said after a short silence, ´the other day I read something about Minister Crouch and I suddenly recalled that the poor man had lost his wife in Azkaban.´

Dumbledore gravely looked at me.

´He lost his _son_ there, not his wife.´

I shook my head: ´I'm absolutely sure professor. His son was sent to Azkaban, but his wife was so devastated about it that she talked him into taking _her_ there so she could trade places with their child. The poor lady died there and the son lives at Crouch's house, probably doing all he can to have his _master_ return.´

I wondered how Dumbledore would respond to his _cue_.

It took him four steps to reply: ´It's still a bit sultry outside, isn't it?´


	9. Peeping Tom

Chapter 9 – Peeping Tom

There were definitely parts of the library where neither Madam Pince nor the elves set foot. I don't mind a little dust though, except when it whirls around and me passing by the shelves wasn't going to destroy the dust's doze.

I settled myself in a window-seat with a book which neither the Malfoy library nor Tahl's could boast to have and I was reading peacefully when I heard footsteps. I hoped they weren't Lockhart's.

´It can't have been _that_ bad?´

'Ow!´ a second voice replied, ´As if I was some...´

Women's voices.

´What? What are you pointing at?´

´The floor! One of those insects... A cockroach, as if I was some _cockroach_!´

´We're in the _library_ Pomona.´

´Sorry,´ professor Sprout said in a softer voice, ´But a _cockroach_ Minerva!´

The footsteps came to a halt. This part of the library was built like a maze and the professors wouldn't interrupt me any time soon. And if they did, I would play Focused Reader.

´They behaved as if I was _less_ than them. And his mother made a remark about my tights. And they were fine tights!´

´I'm sure they were.´

´I wore the white one, with the little pink flowers?´

Professor McGonagall made an appreciative sound. Witches!

´Have you seen the boy?´

´For a moment. He seemed uncomfortable. His parents kept saying that they didn't think it was safe for him to return to Hogwarts. They hired a private teacher to prepare him for Eton. Some sort of school I guess. He's missed _weeks_ of proper classes already. It will be hard for him to fit into the second year. What am I to do? I thought of asking the headmaster to have a word with the boy's parents but he seems not to be himself these days, wouldn't you agree?´

´Uhm. Aren't the Finch-Fletchleys muggle aristocrates?´

´What a marvelous idea Minerva!´

´Well I'm sure that _I_ -´ McGonagall started, but she stopped in midsentence when her colleague said: ´I hope she will help me.´

Silence.

´You think she _won't _Minerva?´

McGonagall cleared her throat.

´There's a HAC today isn't there?´ Sprout asked.

The _she_ was I! It seemed a bit late to announce my presence...

´Oh, I'm sure she'll do it!´ Sprout decided, ´After all she really takes an interest in the muggleborn students.´

´Yes... But to my opinion she shouldn't interfere with the way the school is run. Inviting the muggle born first year students to talk about their _experiences_ in our world... The idea! As if children can't adapt to new situations.´

Some leaves of a book were being turned over.

´Albus at first voiced that it might set the muggle borns apart from the rest, and she had the nerve to say that the system of Houses sets the pupils apart from one another,´ McGonagall said.

´Well I -´

´She asked him whether it wouldn't be a good idea to talk to the muggle parents as well. To give them an _idea_ of what the school is _about_. I mean!´

´Well there must a great many questions those parents have.´

´None of them ever complained about a lack of information, did they? It's not this book.´

´But if they'd known a little more, perhaps they wouldn't think Hogwarts was a dangerous place? Like the Finch-Fletchleys?´

´Could you hand me that book please Pomona?´

´Here you are. You know, they say she's part Veela.´

McGonagall snorted. ´_She'd wish_! It's an urban legend Pomona. Just how she single wandedly -´

Sprout giggled.

´- changed The Flower Garden. It's absurd!´

´The students are enthusiastic about the drama classes...´

´Aren't they? I have to admit that she handles them well.´

Now that was praise indeed!

´But she _refuses_ to wear a hat,´ McGonagall complained.

´Why are you so _against_ her Minerva?´ Sprout shyly asked.

´I'm _not_!´ McGonagall cleared her throat before softly continuing: ´I just wonder what she's up to. Since when does a Black care for muggle borns?´

´Androme-´

´Her sister was an exception to the rule. And let's not forget who her husband is. Ah! Here it is.´

´Do you think that _he_ caused her concussion? Lucius Malfoy that is? By beating her?´

I guessed McGonagall was reading and that she merely shook her head in reply, for Sprout asked: ´Why not?´

´Well, he's _alive_ for a start.´

Sprout giggled. I smirked.

´Do _you_ have any books to collect Pomona?´

´No I don't.´

The professors left.

I stared at my library book.

Two evenings ago Lucius and I had dined in Violet in The Garden and in between the delicious courses several people came to have a chat. One of them told us, in the hushed voice of someone who has News to reveal, that the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was said to have visited Crouch's house. I'd innocently suggested that they might be dating, to which Lucius's acquintance replied that Minister Bones had several employees with her.

It had taken Dumbledore nearly three weeks to act after I'd fed him 'information' but then... I suppose Rome wasn't built in a day. I myself hadn't yet managed to persuade Minister Bones to offer Veritaserum to the prisoners. Besides, I was the _last_ person to criticize someone on the subject of taking action: for the past weeks I'd allowed myself to be distracted by my out-of-school activities.

I'd always wanted to direct and I loved doing it. Working with the children was very likeable.

I'd meant everything I'd said about informing muggleborns and -to a certain extent- their parents about the magical world, but the reason why I'd offered to host meetings of the muggleborn students was that it would prevent me from doing scary things such as confronting Dumbledore or finding Narcissa.

The fact that I believed to have reached my limits as a witch had turned me into a overall coward. Damn!

´Penny for your thoughts?´

I looked up from my reverie.

´Severus!´

´I didn't scare you did I?´

´I will merely admit being startled,´ I smiled, pleased with the distraction.

A corner of his mouth turned upwards.

´Have a seat,´ I invited.

He sat down next to me.

´Isn't the Malfoy library more comfortable than this one?´

´This book,´ I said, tabbing it, ´isn't part of Lucius's library.´

´Ah,´ he replied.

The thought of Lucius made me sigh inwardly. It was hard to relax in his company. I avoided him and his obvious passion as best as I could. Spending a lot of time at school was the kindest way to do so, as was going out together in public.

´-ooster to Hogwarts?´

´I'm sorry?´

´Why did you bring a rooster to school?´

´I felt it was just what this place needed.´

´What is the point of getting a rooster and not have him wake people up?´ the magician slowly said.

´He woke _me_ up.´

´All the way in Wiltshire?´

´Yes, I made a little mistake in the silencing spell.´

´I don't know you to be careless.´

I didn't comment his remark. I'd been pissed with myself for my stupidity and I now felt as if I was being scolded.

´At least no one else heard Sybil,´ I said.

´Sybil?´

´The rooster.´

´Sybil is a woman's name.´

´Oh really Severus, is _that_ what you're thinking about right now?´

´Among others,´ Severus replied in a thoughtful tone of voice. He checked his watch and I glanced at it too.

´In half an hour the rehearsals will begin!´ I exclaimed, rising to my feet. ´I have some preparations to do. Will you accompany me to my closet?´

Severus grinned and nodded. Had he reentered the discussion about the rooster, which part of me hoped, I would have chatted along, but he didn't and I found that I just didn't care.

OoOoOoO

I'd only just sat down at my desk, when there was a knock on the door.

´Yes?´

Neville Longbottom's head appeared.

´May I have a w-word with you p- p- please?´

´Of course you may Neville,´ I replied. The fact that I called the children by their names instead of saying Mister or Miss had caused McGonagall to have a word with _me_. I suppose it would be funny to address eleven year olds in a formal way but it was equally silly. When I'd told Gryffindor's Head that I could hardly call my son Mr Malfoy, she'd reluctantly agreed with me and I hadn't reminded her of the fact that none of the other players were related to me.

´I have to return my part,´ Neville burst out.

´I'm sorry to hear that! You have potential as a player Neville.´

He shyly grinned.

´I like acting,´ he shrugged, looking at the floor. ´It's just that... My grandmother you see. She...´

´Is she afraid the rehearsals take too much time?´

He cleared his throat.

´I wanted to prove that I could combine it. And I did. My grades didn't go down. So I told her.´

I remained silent. It made him continue: ´I wrote that I had auditioned and that I got a part. And that there were only two second year students who got one.´

I smiled, he blushed.

´And I told grandma that _you_ are our director. And she...´  
He wiped his hands on his robe.

Finally it dawned on me.

´She didn't... She forbade me to... She was really upset.´

´Has she told you _why_ she doesn't want you to work with me?´

The boy shook his head.

´I can imagine that Mrs Longbottom dislikes me. You see... You know what happened to your parents don't you?´

Tensing, he nodded. ´They're in hospital.´

I didn't speak.

´They were hurt and they lost their minds,´ he slowly continued.

I nodded.

´Neville, one of the sadists who tortured your parents was my sister Bellatrix.´

His mouth fell open.

´I don't know whether I should have told you this before... It never crossed my mind.´

Silence.

´You didn't _help_ her did you?´ he said in a begging tone of voice.

´Never,´ I said with all the conviction I could master.

He relaxed.

´So grandma shouldn't blame _you_.´

´She lost her son and her daughter-in-law at my sibling's hands. I understand that she holds a -´

´I _don't_. You're not evil. You're...´ His cheeks turned pink and he rose. ´I will write my grandma that I don't care for what she says and - ´

´Your grandmother is hurt by her loss. It wouldn't do to make her feel worse little one.´

The boy turned around and pretended to use his large handkerchief to wipe his nose.

´What if I told her that I really like acting,´ he said in a stifled voice. ´Cause I do. And that you told me that you had nothing to do with what happened to my mum and dad. And that I know you'll never hurt me.´

I nodded and slowly said: ´That sounds good...´

´Of course... If she'd still object... I don't want her to get ill...´

There was a knock on the door.

´Just a moment please!´ I called out.

´I understand that Neville. But should she persist, promise me that you'll talk about it with professor McGonagall. I would be happy to talk to Mrs Longbottom myself, but I doubt she will let me. The Head of your House will surely be listened to.´

´Thank you. But I'll deal with grandma myself first.´

His knightly pose made me smile.

´You're a brave boy Neville. I can see why the Hat selected you for Gryffindor.´

He giggled.

´Will you owl your grandmother?´

He nodded.

´And will I see you in the main hall in twenty minutes?´

He nodded again, obviously relieved and after adding an audible reply he left to allow my next visitor to enter: surprise surprise it was professor Sprout.

She explained the Finch-Fletchley situation and I agreed to visit Justin's parents. After she left I scolded myself. Act woman! Do something useful for a change!

OoOoOoO

Professor Sprout had arranged for me to meet the Finch-Fletchers the next morning already. At my request she had owled her pupil to inform him about me. After all: he and I had to cooperate.

As I was waiting to be admitted to the Finchs' drawing room I heard someone – Justin's mother presumably – say: ´What is she wearing Davies? Purple tights with yellow dots on it?´

´No ma'am.´

´A Mickey Mouse sweater?´

´Not quite ma'am.´

´Let her in Davies,´ a male voice said.

The four people in the room casually remained seated when I click-clacked toward them. A boy of about twelve years old was the only one to look over his shoulder. His anxious expression turned into a relieved one. He rose and greeted me, deftly using my title: ´Lady Malfoy! How do you do. I'm Justin. These are my parents -´

The magic word 'lady' had gotten the other two males to their feet.

´Ma'am,´ Justin's father took over, ´I am pleased to meet you. Let me introduce myself. Richard Finch-Fletcher, my wife, baroness Jane, and our elder son John.´

´The pleasure is mine,´ I said. Greetings were exchanged and we sat down. The baroness -for all her blue blood – needed a moment to recover from the disappointment of finding her visitor dressed in Givency. ´You have a _lovely_ garden,´ I told her with a smile.

We chatted about the usual appropriate subjects until tea was served. When the lady of the house handed me a cup, I told her that the Head of Justin's House had told me all about him.

´I am new at Hogwarts you see,´ I explained. ´A few weeks ago I started a theatre class. The pupils call it the HAC: the Hogwarts Acting Class.´

´I was a bit of an actor myself at university, as is John now. Will you enact a play?´

´We've started the rehearsals for 'Romeo and Juliet'.´

´Really?´ Justin's mother exclaimed, ´I _so_ favour a school having out-of-school activities.´

´I absolutely agree with you. It's what makes us think fondly of our days at school, isn't it?´

´Did you go to Justin's school as well?´

´Yes I did, as did my husband.´

´Was it safe _then_?´ the baroness asked while her husband gazed at my legs.

´Yes it was. And it still is,´ I bluffed, ´I can assure you that if it wasn't safe, I wouldn't have sent my own son to Hogwarts.´

The baron and his wife exchanged a glance. I sipped my tea.

´So there's aristocracy in the wizard world too is there?´ the baroness asked.

I gave her a conspiritual smile: ´_Of course_ there is!´

The baron laughed and his wife sighed happily.

'Are you and Lady Malfoy's son friends Just?´ brother John asked.

I quickly came to the boy's help: ´They are in different Houses. And we all recall the competition between Houses, don't we?´

´Wonderful, wonderful!´ the baron exclaimed. ´Those were the days.´

He looked at his wife.

Sensing that the parents needed to talk things over in private I asked them whether they minded if I had a look at a piece of art on the terrace.

´Not at all ma'am,´ the baron said, ´Justin, John, show her ladyship the statue will you?´

The three of us went outside where we admired the art as well as the potted plants and some gargoyles high above. To his brother's embarresment John told me about what the family now understood to be an early sign of Justin's wizardry.

´Haha,´ his father interupted us as he stepped outside, ´that's a nice story isn't it? Yes son,´ he addressed his youngest child, ´you're our little wizard!´ His expression turned serious. ´Now listen Justin, your mother and I have talked this over and we concluded that the situation at Hogwarts isn't as bad as you made us believe it was.´

Justin was about to object to his father's version of the truth, but I caught his eye and shook my head ever so slightly. He lowered his gaze to the ground, appearing to be a remorseful boy. His father told him to go packing.

I accompanied Justin to his room, to collect his ready-to-carry trunk. As I seized (and weighed) it down until it fit in my bag, I heard a voice say: ´Hungry´. It couldn't have been Justin who was talking about having missed a lot of classes (though he was so happy at being allowed to return to Hogwarts, that he voiced his worries with a smile on his face). I said something reassuring while looking around for the source of the voice.

Noticing a terranium I slowly approached it.

All those weeks I'd kept an open ear for the basilisk and I'd told myself that either Parseltongue was something one was born with (as the books said), or that I wasn't powerful enough to hear it even if a snake was lisping straight into my ear (as I suspected).

Could it be that the basilisk simply was the silent type?

´That's Suzy,´ Justin said, walking toward me.

´Have you fed her recently?´

The boy gave it a thought and admitted that it had been a while.

´Who will feed her when you're at school?´

´I'll ask Davies. He fed her last year. Mother can't stand snakes you see and father is afraid of reptiles. I'll ask Davies straight away. And I'll get some food too.´

The boy left and I stared at the snail, unblinking. It had never entered my mind to _talk_ to the basilisk. Was it because Harry hadn't done so either? How stupid of me!

I took a deep breath.

´Greetings,´ I said. It sounded like English to me.

´Greetings,´ the snake called Suzy replied.

My breath got caught in my thoat. Supercalifragili-sticexpialidocious!

´Food is on its way.´

´No kill,´ the animal said.

´Humans prefer their meat dead on their plates,´ I explained.

The snake didn't reply. Well, what had I expected? Except in the Bible, Jungle Book and the fictional world of Harry Potter, a snake is a snake is a snake. Hunt, digest, sleep. They don't exactly create plays in between now do they? I recalled from 'the Philosopher's stone' that the basilisk, though he was a fantastic creature, wasn't too eloquent either.

Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay. It's supercalifragili-sticexpialidocious!

Justin returned with a drumstick. Smiling brightly I asked the boy whether he already had bought his school books. He tore his gaze away from the terranium, where the meat awaited an attack of sorts.

´Oh no! How am I -´

´I'll take you to the Alley,´ I said.

Downstairs Justin informed his parents about my offer.

´Oh would you?´ Justin's mother exclaimed. ´Thank you Lady Malfoy. Last year we took Justin there and it is not the sort of place where a child can wander alone. There were some rather...´

She struggled to find a neutral description. ´_Special_ people walking that street.´

She casually handed her son a thick wallet and asked me whether the Ford in front of the mansion was mine. I confirmed this though the car was Lucius's. The driver was employed by one of the Malfoy firms.

OoOoOoO

Sooner than was to be expected Justin and I found ourselves in front of the Leaky Cauldron, where a grateful Professor Sprout relieved me of my charge.

Feeling pleased with myself and radiantly confident, I asked the driver if it was possible to wait for me. He nodded as if parking a car on Charing Cross Road was a perfectly normal thing to do. I hurried to the hotel where I'd signed the contract that had me imprisoned in this world. For the I don't know how-manieth time I tried to remember whether there had been anything strange when I'd entered the hotel for the first time. Had I stepped into a hotel in muggle London or had the lawyer walked into a hotel outside his world? Or was muggle London the real London and was Rowling a witch who got out of the closet?

Once inside I asked to see Mr Daniels. The receptionist checked his PC and informed me that there was no one by that name staying at the hotel.

´Oh I'm sorry. He is not a guest. He is the general manager.´

´Daniels you said? David Alfred Nelly Isaac Edward London Samuel?´

I nodded.

´I'm sorry ma'am, but there's no one by that name employed here.´

´Perhaps he left? I'm quite sure he worked here some weeks ago.´

´No ma'am, I would know. I'm sorry.´

I was already on my way to the exit, when a thought came up. I returned to the receptionist.

´Ma'am,´ he said, still polite.

I smiled brightly in return.

´I'm sorry to bother you again, but is there a waiter working here with lots of hair?´ I said, wriggling my fingers on either side of my head.

The receptionist suppressed a smile and nodded discretely, looking over my left shoulder. I turned my head. There he was: the man who'd brought me a glass of water. He looked exactly like he had on the day it had all started.

Not explaining my curiousity I again thanked the hotel employee and returned to the car.

´Where to ma'am?´ the driver asked.

´King's Road please.´

After my first Hollywood film I'd bought an apartment in Chelsea, even though my friends believed that Covent Garden was _the_ place to be and my family tried to make me buy something in South Kensington.

A little while later on I walked toward my apartment, enjoying having to fight a strong wind.

Who would answer my door? Would it be Narcissa-I-have-a-concussion-and-wizards-don't-exist-Malfoy? Would it be Narcissa-get-me-the-hell-out-of-here-Malfoy? Might it be Narcissa-finally-I-was-waiting-for-you-we-need-to-talk-how-are-my-men-Malfoy? It seemed unlikely that my worried brother would be here: _if_ he had a counterpart in muggle London, he wouldn't worry about a sister going missing in the next century.

I wished Dumbledore were present, so I could pull the man's beard. Hard.

I checked the small brass plates at the entrance to 'my' building. Behind number fourteen it read _John Julius Dexter_.

´Are you all right lass?´ a man in his fifties asked me. He was unknown to me yet he'd stepped outside to collect his mail as if he actually lived here.

I told him that a friend had given me directions to his house, but that I was afraid I hadn't recalled them correctly.

´What's his name?´

´Mr Herbert Jacobi,´ I told him. The extravagant Herbert had lived in the building since 1967.

´Don't know him, sorry.´

I checked the mailboxes and nodded.

´Got his number?´ the man said. ´Wanna make a call?´

´I've got my cell phone with me, thank you.´

´A cell phone eh? Well good luck lass.´

I made a mental note to tell Lucius to invest in Nokia. Sometimes I dislike myself, but then: good clear thinking goes a long way. I walked back to the car.

In the muggle world the number of cell phones would show me what year it was: my year or the book's year. You never knew: the contract's magic might wear off and I could suddenly be back home.

´Right!´ I commented my own silliness.

I caught my reflection in a window.

I looked lovely.

I felt murderous.

A nice snakeskin bag would be _just_ the thing to brighten me up.


End file.
